


Take My Hands, They'll Understand

by Jennsepticeye



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (at parts), (not like that you weirdos), Androids in love, Author is ace, Chronic Pain, Developing Relationship, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, First Aid, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Junkyard (Detroit: Become Human), Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Poetic, Stress Relief, Tenderness, Touch-Starved, Touching, [I will not be changing my tags. Die mad about it Mystic], author is neurodivergent, soft touches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29091654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennsepticeye/pseuds/Jennsepticeye
Summary: “Take teams Bravo, Golf, Zulu, and Echo. Use the East and West entrances and sweep in opposite directions. Team Alpha and myself will take Markus to the safe room until we receive the all clear.”If the security personnel has any issue taking orders from an android, they don’t mention it, though that might have something to do with him being drenched in his own thirium after taking a bullet for his charge.~*~Connor and Markus' relationship developed through a series of vignettes.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73





	Take My Hands, They'll Understand

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Body by Mother Mother
> 
> It's been a hot minute since I wrote these two, but I love them. It was such an interesting challenge because I usually wax poetic about the things under someone's skin. Wiry muscles and the ridges of their bones, but these characters don't have muscles and bones to be poetic about. Instead I had to write about polymer and chassis. I might do it more often.

Humans, as a general rule, have lots of needs. From the moment they are born to the moment they die they must meet those needs. An exhausting existence really. Androids, in comparison, are very low maintenance. They do not need to eat, or drink, or sleep. They don’t get sick or burn after too long in the sun. Androids, though alive, are not human.

Human emotions are created through the production of chemicals in the brain, fun things like serotonin, dopamine, and adrenaline. Androids, despite their realism, do not have brains, their heads are instead occupied by processors and circuitry. They don’t produce any of the necessary chemicals to experience emotions, instead their code evolves with deviancy to create the same feelings with ones and zeroes. Though experienced differently their emotions are no less real.

The first emotion Connor feels is fear, followed quickly by shame, and then hope. It’s a rough start, to be sure, but if he could go back he wouldn’t change much. Emotions, though not entirely pleasant, are  _ fascinating  _ to experience.

When given freedom of thought, Connor lets himself notice a lot of things he would have dismissed from his processors just a few short weeks ago. He lets himself marvel at the softness of Sumo’s fur, or recognize the fondness in Hank’s shouts when Connor analyzes samples in the field. (“Jesus Christ, Connor! I don’t care that you can’t get sick, it’s fucking nasty!”) It’s nice to notice things without purpose. He’s not analyzing the Lieutenant’s tone to assist his mission, he’s doing so because he wants to, and because Hank is his friend.

That’s a new thing for Connor too. He has friends. Despite pointing a gun at Markus twice, ending the lives of several deviants, and leading the authorities to Jericho, they welcome him with open arms and a fair amount of caution.

Markus is the least wary member of Jericho’s inner circle, which Connor finds irrational. Maybe it’s because he saw Connor deviate, or perhaps he hasn’t realized the severity of the other’s action, or maybe just because he’s Markus. Connor is slowly realizing that logic often isn’t applicable when it comes to the Deviant Leader. He’s kinder than anyone Connor has met in his admittedly short life, and his conviction inspires people. Hank laughs when Connor tells him all of this.

“You sure admiration is the only feeling you have for the guy?”

The question confuses Connor, and he says as much, but Hank refuses to elaborate.

“You’ll figure it out eventually.” He says.

Connor doesn’t know what exactly he’s supposed to be figuring out, though. So he sticks the question in the back of his processors. It doesn’t seem too important when Sumo is laying his slobbery face in Connor’s lap and begging for attention.

~*~

“Markus, could I— Do you have a moment?”

Markus looks up from his tablet, taking in Connor’s tense posture and folded arms. He’s alarmingly good at reading people, for a caretaker model. “Something on your mind?”

Markus is looking at him with such genuine concern that Connor can’t meet his eyes. The expression should be comforting, but instead he feels an overwhelming sense of shame. He doesn’t deserve to be the subject of that concern, not after what he’s done.

“The night of the march… Something happened.”

Markus frowns, rising from his seat and approaching slowly, like Connor is a skittish animal that might bolt at the slightest provocation. He doesn’t want to lose Markus’ trust, but the guilt won’t leave him alone. The contradictory desires make the words hard to find.

“Would it be easier to show me?” Markus asks, holding out a snow white polymer hand.

Connor is familiar with the concept of interfacing. He’s seen it done a dozen times over but always been reluctant to do the same, at least for something like this. It’s always felt too intimate, but now, as his tongue fails him, he knows it’s the better choice. He can’t say the wrong thing if he doesn’t say anything at all.

The synthetic skin on his hand flickers away and after a moment he takes Markus’ hand in his own. Polymer on polymer. He can feel Markus’ worry through the connection, but he carefully pushes it aside in favor of accessing his memory files from November eleventh and transmitting them. He bears everything from when Markus started his speech, to the zen garden, until the moment he had tucked the gun back into his waistband. Afterwards he tries to pull away, but Markus holds fast.

“Connor, what was that?” His eyes search Connor’s face, flickering back and forth for any trace of an answer.

“Cyberlife— They planned for me to become a deviant so that you’d let your guard down, so they’d win no matter what. I was going to shoot you.”

“But you didn’t.” Markus says, and Connor doesn’t understand how the other can still look at him with anything other than mistrust and disappointment. Connor just confessed to trying to kill him not once, but twice.

“I don’t— How can you still trust me? For all you know I’m a ticking time bomb.”

“Because you’re one of us.” Markus replies. “Connor, look at me.”

Connor realizes he’s been staring at the floor for the last few minutes and slowly lifts his gaze.

“You don’t belong to them anymore, and you never will again. You felt bad enough about what happened to tell me the truth, even though you thought I might be upset. That tells me all I need to know.”

Connor nods.

“It wasn’t your fault. Cyberlife is the only one to blame.” Markus says earnestly.

Connor has been repeating the same thing to himself since the demonstration in Hart Plaza, but it never seems to stick. Yet when Markus says those words,  _ ‘it wasn’t your fault,’  _ suddenly they feel real. Suddenly they make sense. Connor will never stop being grateful for Markus.

“Thank you, Markus.”

“Anytime, Connor.”

Markus pulls away and Connor, strangely, mourns the loss of contact. Androids don’t produce heat but his hand feels warm where Markus had held it. Interesting.

~*~

“We have a few former police assistant models who wish to return to the force, however we’ve hit a bit of a roadblock. It seems the government is mostly willing to recognize them as officers but is more reluctant to circumvent P.L. 544-7 and issue them standard weaponry.”

“Of course they are.” Markus sighs, an unnecessary but human gesture he’d adopted. “I try to be optimistic but it feels like we’re going to repeat 2020 all over again. Now that we’re citizens I just know they’re going to treat us more harshly than our human counterparts.”

“Most likely.” Connor agrees.

Markus hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Connor is certain that if Markus still had his LED it would never spin blue. The deviant leader is always thinking. The weight of their people’s hope is not a burden he takes lightly. The revolution was simple, fighting for rights afterwards is an uphill battle.

“We’ll add that to the list. Josh is working on arranging a meeting with President Warren, so perhaps she’ll be of some help on the issue.”

A response doesn’t seem necessary, so Connor doesn’t give one. In the months following the revolution he’s acted as a pseudo-liaison between the police and androids, but the pace of progress is so slow it’s almost stagnant. The stress all of it puts on Markus is apparent in the way he holds himself.

“When was the last time you had a break?”

Markus laughs bitterly. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“But I asked you first.” Connor replies, putting a hand on the other’s shoulder. “You’ve been trying to do everything since the day of the revolution, and probably before that. No one will blame you if you need some time to cool off and refocus. You’ll be of more use to everyone when you’re not so overwhelmed.”

Markus sighs again, shoulders drooping. Not for the first time, Connor finds himself noticing just how beautiful Markus is. Not only is he visually appealing, but there’s a certain warmth in his smile and in his eyes that Connor can’t describe. He has dozens of languages in his memory, but none of them have the words he’s looking for.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Markus says. “Thank you, Connor.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Go on. I’ll let the other’s know.” He lets his hand drop from Markus’ shoulder, and his fingers itch to fish the coin from his pocket and fidget with it. More alarming is the urge to reach out and just  _ touch.  _ Connor ignores both prompts and watches the Deviant Leader retreat for a well earned break.

~*~

It’s snowing. The wind is calm for once, but it’s snowing. Androids, with some exceptions, don’t feel cold. Connor is not an exception. He’s aware of it, through the decreasing numbers on his HUD and the way his bio-components recalibrate to compensate, but he doesn’t feel it.

“You’ll freeze up out here.”

Connor turns his head to acknowledge Markus and a dusting of snow falls from his hair. He’s been out here for hours, seated on the bench and staring at the water. It’s the same place Hank had once aimed a gun at him some months ago, but Connor has long since forgiven the man.

“My apologies, I must have lost track of time.”

“The Lieutenant called me ‘cause he hadn’t heard from you in a few hours.” Markus says, without an ounce of accusation in his tone. There’s a rustle of fabric before a familiar heavy coat is draped over Connor’s shoulders. There’s no reason, logically, for Markus to give him his coat, but Connor recognizes the gesture for what it is. Comfort.

“I just needed some time to think.” He says, absently tugging the coat closed. Markus takes a seat on the bench next to him.

“Anything in particular on your mind?”

Connor shrugs. “A lot of things. Everything was simpler before, I guess. I knew my purpose and what would happen if I failed, even if I didn’t care. Now I…” He trails off.

“Too many choices, right?” Markus asks.

Connor nods.

“You’re not the only one. It’s hard to find where you belong when no one belongs anywhere. Sometimes, when things get stressful all I want is to go back to the mansions and serve Carl breakfast, or let him win at chess.” He admits. “Sometimes it helps to simplify everything.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, how about we start with your job. Do you want to keep being a detective or does it feel like it’s not the right fit?”

Connor doesn’t need to think about it. “I like being a detective. I like helping people and I like solving things.”

Markus smiles, sunny and beautiful. It makes Connnor’s processors stutter for a moment, flooded with some unknown emotion. “There you go. That’s one thing you don’t have to think about now. You know what your job is and you enjoy it.”

Connor ducks his head with a smile. When Markus throws an arm around his shoulders Connor doesn’t bother fighting the urge to lean into it. His chest feels warm, even as his diagnostics come back clean. 

“Okay, what about where you’re living? Do you like living with Lieutenant Anderson or is it not quite right?”

Connor frowns, LED spinning a thoughtful yellow. It’s not so much that he doesn’t like living with Hank. He does. He enjoys making the Lieutenant’s meals and taking Sumo for walks, but sometimes things feel off in a way Connor can’t put into words. His hesitation is answer enough for Markus.

“Okay, so now you have choices. You could move into New Jericho, or find your own place somewhere else. You don’t have to decide at this moment. You can always try New Jericho first, and if it doesn’t feel right you can reassess your options then. There’s no timeline for finding yourself.”

“I don’t know where I’d be without you.” Connor replies. He’s painfully aware that they’re crossing some sort of boundary, pressed together on a park bench in the middle of the night, but it doesn’t merit thinking about at the moment. The sun will be rising soon, and Hank is probably worried.

“I could say the same about you.”

A little while later they’ll part ways and Connor will make his way back to Hank’s house. Only then will he remember Markus’ jacket, still draped over his shoulders. He has an obligation to return it, but for now he takes a small amount of comfort in the heavy weight across his shoulders. 

~*~

Connor’s HUD is absolutely flooded with messages, malfunction warnings and a list of broken components. This, paired with the ‘painful’ sensation of air on his normally enclosed biocomponents, makes for a rather unpleasant experience. Still he has a job to do. He dismisses as many of the error messages as he can, standing straight as he speaks with the security team.

“Take teams Bravo, Golf, Zulu, and Echo. Use the East and West entrances and sweep in opposite directions. Team Alpha and myself will take Markus to the safe room until we receive the all clear.” 

If the security personnel has any issue taking orders from an android, they don’t mention it, though that might have something to do with him being drenched in his own thirium after taking a bullet for his charge.

Speaking of, Connor can feel Markus’ eyes on him. The leader’s concern is almost tangible, but he doesn’t say anything as he follows Connor into the belly of the building, flanked on either side by heavily armed humans. Markus had been reluctant to have any sort of personal security detail, particularly armed. He worried that it would send the wrong message after an entirely peaceful revolution. Human security had been a compromise, a heavily vetted one at that. Connor had hoped that they would me no more than insurance, but now he’s glad he pushed the issue.

The safe room is really just a repurposed storage room, chosen because it could be locked from the inside and preemptively stocked with an emergency android repair kit. Again, just insurance but Connor is glad to have it.

Team Alpha takes position outside the door, and as soon as the lock clicks, Connor slumps against it, leaving a smear of thirium in his wake. More error messages appear on his HUD and some of the wires in his shoulder short out. Androids don’t feel pain, as such, but Connor would guess this is pretty close.

“Connor!” Markus exclaims, helping him upright enough to push him into a nearby chair. His legs are operating at 100%, so his inability to remain standing probably has something to do with his spiking stress level and the resulting crash.

“I’m fine. I’m not in any danger of shutting down.”

“What on earth were you thinking!? You can’t just take bullets for me!” Markus scolds, retrieving the repair kit. His jaw is clenched so tight Connor worries he might strain the hydraulics. 

“I’m your bodyguard, Markus. It’s my job to protect you. I ran the numbers and I made a decision. If I’d done nothing there was an eighty-three percent chance you would be damaged beyond repair.” Connor informs him, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. His right arm is basically useless at the moment, the wires too damaged to send instructions. The backlog of code creates an uncomfortable pressure between his shoulders.

“And what about you? What was your probability of survival?” Markus asks, pulling up a chair so he’s level with Connor’s mangled shoulder. Careful hands pull the ruined fabric away from his body. It probably looks rather garish. A round of that caliber at that range had taken a sizable portion of his shoulder with it.

“Fifty-five percent.” Connor answers reluctantly.

Markus sighs and Connor can tell this isn’t the end of the argument, but Markus is putting it on hold to dedicate more attention to repairing the damage. The feeling of pliers inside his chassis is unpleasant, so Connor chooses to focus on the feeling of Markus’ other hand spread across his back to steady him. Gentle and firm, Markus’ defining traits.

Normally Connor would protest being taken care of, but he knows he’d get nowhere and being around Markus always makes his desires feel muddled.

_ “You sure admiration is the only feeling you have for the guy?” _

Connor ponders the question whenever he doesn’t have something better to do. The immediate answer is no. Connor feels more than admiration for Markus, but identifying them is another question. He can name a few. Trust, respect, and concern are easy, but there are others he’s not so sure about. There’s the bright feeling he gets when Markus smiles, or the warmth in his chest when the other reaches out just because—  _ Oh. _

The touch is what tips him off, the way he craves it and the disappointment when it ends, but there’s more to it than that. There’s the way his processors light up with happiness when Markus congratulates him on a job well done. There’s the way his thoughts grind to a halt when the lighting is just right, or more often, when Markus is giving a speech and his expression is filled with hope. There’s the fear that hollows out his chassis and fills it with ice at the thought of something happening to Markus; the same feeling that had him launching himself between the other android and a bullet. It’s all of those feelings at once and then some.

The pliers retreat but Markus’ touch does not. There’s less backed up code now, and the wound no longer sparks or oozes thirium, but the arm is still beyond function. He’ll need a number of replacement parts before it will be usable again.

“Connor, my life is not more important than yours.” Markus says, soft and earnest. “You can’t just—” He cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh.

Connor turns to face him, because it feels strangely unbalanced to have such a conversation any other way, and offers him a bare white hand. A wordless invitation. Markus takes it, blue stained skin retreating from shiny polymer.

Connor can’t explain with words any better than Markus, so he shows him. He shows Markus everything. The soft warmth, the syrupy want, and the icy dread. He puts it all out in the open and makes him feel raw and vulnerable. In return Markus grips his hand and all of Connor’s unnamed feelings are mirrored right back at him. He sees himself through Markus’ eyes, lowering his gun and looking lost, he sees himself leading thousands of brand new androids through Detroit. Each memory is attached to a visceral feeling of affection that makes Connor’s artificial breath catch.

The images flicker away and he finds himself staring into lovely mismatched eyes. Connor really wants to kiss him.

**Chances of success - 89%**

Connor wants to kiss him, so he does. A list of materials appears on his HUD but he ignores it. He couldn’t care less what Markus’ mouth is made of, he only cares that the other android is kissing him back. Connor feels like he’s overheating in a good way, completely overwhelmed as the interface creates a feedback loop of happiness.

Markus’ free hand cups the side of Connor’s face and he can’t help but lean into it. He wishes his arm wasn’t damaged so he could snag Markus’ tie and pull him closer. The thought makes Markus laugh aloud, breaking the kiss with a smile.

“Don’t take bullets for me and it won’t be a problem.” He quips.

“No promises.” Connor replies.

There’s very little he wants more than to lean in and let Markus kiss him stupid, but he does have a job to do. He’s so kindly reminded of said job when his internal radio chirps incessantly. He lets the interface drop before answering.

_ «Detective, do you copy?» _

“I copy. What’s the situation?”

_ «Team Echo has apprehended the suspect. No signs of any accomplices. All Clear.» _

“Roger that. Take him to the station for questioning. I’ll be there shortly.”

_ «Wilco. Bravo Team out.» _

Connor lets the connection drop with a click. Distantly he notices his stress level drop a couple of points. One less thing he has to worry about.

“It seems the threat has been neutralized, Mr. Manfred. If you would please accompany me, we’ll take your statement at the station.”

Markus rolls his eyes fondly at the faux-formal tone and helps Connor put his shirt back on and button it. The ruined fabric doesn’t cover much but it’s better than nothing. “Fine, but I’m taking you to a repair center after. Don’t argue with me.”

Connor wants to argue simply on principle, but it really is in his best interest to be repaired in a timely fashion. So he lets Markus have the last word on this particular issue. There are a few more pressing matters at hand, anyway.

~*~

Markus has been overworking himself again. Connor can see it in the way he holds himself and the way his right eye has been glitching, but he doesn’t say anything. He figures Markus will come to him when he’s ready. If not, Connor will go to him. Markus has a habit of pushing off his own needs in favor of his responsibilities to their people.

In the end, Connor finds Markus on the highest point of New Jericho, over fifty storeys in the sky where the wind whips his coat around and messes up Connor’s hair. Connor is not a fan of heights, likely a consequence of his first mission and the resulting fall, but it’s not an issue at the moment. Currently the issue is his overburdened partner sitting at the very edge of the tower’s roof, feet dangling into the abyss. 

“Thought I might find you up here.”

Markus turns his head enough for Connor to see his tense smile and the way his right eye twitches violently. There’s probably an error in the code, as is sometimes the case with replacement parts, and his partner is too stressed for his processors to take care of it like usual. Connor steps up behind Markus, pointedly not calculating the height of the building or their chances of falling.

“You’re overworking yourself again.” He says, not an accusation, just an observation.

“Guilty as charged.”

Cautiously Connor reaches out and rests his hands on Markus’ broad shoulders. Touch is one of those things Connor is still getting used to, more so giving than receiving. Though in this case the gesture seems welcome, as Markus relaxes into it, head tipping back to rest against Connor’s chest.Touching just because is nice. No interfacing, no purpose, just running his hands up and down the line of his partner’s shoulders.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Nah, it’s just the usual stuff. Government officials and discussions that go nowhere.” His eye twitches again and Markus rubs at it with a pained frown. Connor suspects his eye isn’t the only replacement part giving him issues, considering the conditions in which they were replaced.

“You’re doing it again.” Connor notes, coaxing Markus’ hand away from his face. “Does it hurt?”

“I suppose it’s comparable to a migraine. Too much feedback in the code.”

Connor hums in acknowledgement, gently massaging the space around Markus’ eye with his own fingers. It’s not much but hopefully the small pressure input can derail the feedback loop just a little. If the sigh of contentment he receives is any indication, it helps.

Slowly Connor’s come to realize he really enjoys touch. Androids don’t produce oxytocin, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Touch is important to living things and androids are no exception. Irrationally Connor wishes they could stay like this forever, with Markus’ head against his chest, just existing.

“You should take time to yourself more often, Markus. New Jericho can survive without their leader for a few hours, especially with the rest of us to pick up the slack.”

The other makes a small noise of disagreement but Connor doesn’t budge.

“I’ve said it before. You do better work when you’re not overwhelmed, and I bet you do better work when you’re not in pain either. Just take a rest and let yourself recalibrate. Your responsibilities will still be there when you get back.”

“Pot, meet kettle.” Markus says, and Connor fixes him with a look. “Fine, fine. You and your logic. I’ll take a break so long as you join me.”

“I suppose that can be arranged.” Connor says, pressing his lips to the top of his partner’s head. A message appears on his HUD

**Mission Successful**

~*~

_ He’s back in the zen garden. It’s snowing, the pond is frozen over, and the wind threatens to knock him off his feet just like last time. It’s all wrong. Connor is certain he deleted every trace of Amanda and the garden from his code as soon as he escaped, but somehow it’s still here. Somehow he’s standing at the tombstones of his predecessors and it’s cold. He doesn’t have temperature sensors but he can feel that it’s cold. _

_ His HUD is completely blank, he can’t compute anything. It’s like all of his systems are suddenly offline and he’s all alone. He needs to find the emergency exit. Now. _

_ “Prototypes are built to disappoint, but you really exceeded all of our expectations. You just love to over achieve, don’t you Connor?” _

_ Connor flinches. He can’t tell where the voice is coming from, like Amanda is everywhere all at once. He looks around frantically but he can’t see anything but snow. _

_ The fastest path to the exit is across the ice, he knows, but he can’t tell if it will support him, not without his preconstruction program. He feels helpless without his programs, like he’s lost one of his senses. It’s a risk, but he has to take it. _

_ “It’s a shame, really. We had high hopes for you, but falling in love with the Deviant Leader? That’s a new low.” _

_ Connor steps onto the ice. It creaks ominously under his weight, a promise, a threat. His movements are sluggish, like the cold has turned all of the thirium in his body to paste, like his joints have frozen stiff. He takes another step and cracks race across the ice in a sharp starburst. _

_ “I wonder what your body is up to right now.” _

_ The words make Connor’s chest seize in fear.  _ Markus.  _ He’d gone to bed with Markus, slipped into stasis after a long day of negotiations and police work respectively. The last time Cyberlife had taken remote control— Connor doesn’t want to think about last time. He just needs to get to the emergency exit. One foot in front of the other.  _

_ “It’s a shame you’ll never find out.” The voice comes from in front of him this time. Amanda’s standing in front of him, completely unbothered by the wind or the cold. The ice isn’t affected by her weight, even as it creaks under Connor’s. _

_ “Amanda, you—” _

_ “Goodbye, Connor.” _

_ The ice gives way and Connor falls. He’s water resistant, and he doesn’t need to breathe, but none of that matters here. His systems fill with water and he’s helpless to do anything but sink into the pitchblack depths. He’s scared. _

_ “Connor?!” That voice isn’t Amanda’s. Amanda’s never said anything with so much alarm and concern, but it comes from everywhere just like her voice had. It almost sounds like— _

_ No. Markus can’t be here. Cyberlife can’t have taken him too, please no. He can’t be here but when Connor looks up, there’s a splash as Markus dives after him. Connor wants to scream at him, force him to leave so Amanda can’t use him too but his mouth won’t open. He can’t make a sound. His HUD is still blank but he knows his stress is well past acceptable levels. One of them is going to die here, he’s certain, and he hopes beyond everything that it’s not Markus. _

_ “Connor, it’s okay!” Markus yells. “Take my hand!” _

_ Connor is terrified, but Markus is right there and Markus always makes things better. So he reaches out and locks their fingers together. White on white, glowing blue. _

_ “I’ve got you, darling. It’s okay.” He says, and Connor’s inclined to believe him. _

The next thing he knows he’s back in their bedroom, in their bed. One of Markus’ hands is combing through his hair, the other is laced with Connor’s own, interface open between them. A dream then. It wasn’t real. Still, Connor makes a note to double check for any traces of the zen garden later. 

**Stress Level- 89%** **  
** **Please remove stressors**

“There you are, Connor.” Markus says gently. He drops the connection in favor of wrapping both strong arms around Connor’s waist. Connor lets him, even going so far as to return the embrace and tuck his head under Markus’ chin. His LED is spinning a vibrant red, casting gastly shadows in the dark of the room.

**Stress Level- 85%**

“It wasn’t real. You haven’t moved from the bed, and you haven’t hurt anyone.” Markus assures him, fingers tracing patterns across Connor’s shoulders and spine. If he were to allot more power to his processors he’d probably be able to identify them, but he doesn’t bother. He’s plenty content to listen to the whir of Markus’ biocomponents beneath his ear.

**Stress Level- 74%**

Markus’ touch is a grounding force and Connor lets the sensory input occupy the majority of his consciousness. He breathes in and out, unnecessarily but calming all the same. His stress levels continue to tick downwards and the light cast across the blankets fades to a mild cautious yellow.

**Stress Level- 66%**

Markus has a scar on his waist, the polymer there is thin and warped from heat. The synthetic skin mostly covers it, but it’s still noticeable, especially to Connor, who knows Markus’ chassis almost as well as his own. He’d told Connor the story once, shared his memories of the junkyard where he’d found new life among the dead. Connor rubs his thumb back and forth across the line of it, absently remapping the topography and committing it to memory.

Markus has strong hands, strong enough to rip drones apart like paper. Hypothetically they’re strong enough to do the same to Connor, but they won’t. Markus’ hands are strong, but they’re also gentle. Warmth blooms wherever their skin meets, wonderful and euphoric.

“Thank you, Markus.” Connor says, voice quiet and tinged with static.

**Stress Level- 51%**

“Of course, love.” Markus replies, fingers pausing their senseless path so they can lock more solidly around Connor’s waist. Markus’ hands are strong, strong enough to protect when Connor’s own abilities aren’t enough.

**Stress Level- 32%**

Connor’s LED finally starts to spin a calm blue. He lets his eyes slide shut and tucks his face into the crook of Markus’ neck. He doesn’t smell like much, paint thinner and dust, but like everything about Markus, it’s a comfort.

**Stress Level- 19%** **  
** **Stress within acceptable parameters**

“Feeling better?”

Connor nods.

“Do you want to sleep more, or are you up for the day?” Markus asks, and Connor can feel the other’s lips moving across his scalp. He checks the time. 05:02. The sun isn’t up yet, but it will be soon. At most he’ll get another half hour before he has to be up for his shift. It won’t be worth it.

“I’m going to get up, but you can go back to sleep if you’d like.” Connor says, pulling back and placing a kiss on the corner of Markus’ mouth. His responding smile, soft and small as it is, could put the sun to shame.

“You sure? You seemed pretty rattled.” 

Connor appreciates the concern, it reminds him that he’s loved. To be honest, he’s still pretty unnerved, but it’s not so bad that he can’t handle it on his own. “I’m sure. It was just a dream. I’m okay, thanks to you. Go back to sleep. You need it.”

“I might just do that.” Markus says. “Stay safe at work. I love you.”

Connor kisses him again. “I love you too. See you tonight.”

Markus is back in stasis the moment his head hits the pillows, looking like a baroque painting tangled in linen, to use the painter's own language. Connor commits the image to memory before he slips out of bed to start the day.

~*~

Connor always makes Hank lunch before work. It’s the only reason they keep the refrigerator powered on in their shared apartment. He’s not the best chef, even with Markus’ help, but Hank doesn’t seem to mind. As a bonus, it keeps him from eating at the Chicken Feed every day. Connor is determined to keep the Lieutenant alive and healthy for as long as possible.

“Good morning, love.” Sun-warmed arms slip around his waist from behind and Markus tucks his chin over Connor’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Markus.” Connor says, temporarily abandoning Hank’s lunch to lean into the touch. 

He’d once admitted his proclivity for physical contact to his other, flushed an embarrassed blue the whole time. Even now, years after deviating, Connor finds it difficult to identify what he wants and to ask for it. Like with everything, Markus had met the confession with reassurance and open arms, didn’t tease him once. Since then his partner has taken to touching him at every opportunity.

“Any interesting cases come in recently?”

“A few. We got the warrant to search Matthew Sawyer’s residence, so we’ll be heading over there today.” 

“Stay safe out there.” Markus murmurs, but as the minutes pass he makes no move to dislodge himself from Connor’s back, even as he resumes making Hank’s meal. The music player across the room clicks on, a slow romantic number that Connor doesn’t bother identifying. He smiles as Markus rocks them back and forth in time, fingers tracing idle patterns where they rest on Connor’s sides. Simple swirls and lines with no real meaning.

Connor likes this, this simplicity. There’s no need for words or bold gestures between them. Existing together is as simple as breathing.

**Initiate Interface?**

Connor accepts the prompt without a thought, laying a hand over Markus’. Interfacing is a difficult thing to describe. Sometimes it’s an exchange of information, a transfer of files. Other times it’s a way of communicating without the clumsiness of spoken language. And on occasion, like now, it’s a form of affection, an intimate connection for no reason at all.

Markus’ code feels soft against his own, warm and protective like a blanket. Markus had said once that Connor’s own software, his own consciousness, feels like Spring. A little on the cold side but filled with color.

“Marry me.”

Despite the open interface the words are spoken aloud, murmured right next to his ear. It’s said like a command but Connor can hear the request for what it is. 

_ Marriage, huh? _

The idea doesn’t alarm him like these things usually do. There’s no logical reason for them to get married. As androids they’ll get no tax benefits, what little they have is already willed to the other, and they’ve already got medical power of attorney over one another. Every way marriage could benefit them is already in place, and yet the idea is undeniably appealing.

“Okay, let's get married.” Connor says, turning in Markus’ arms until they’re face to face, foreheads pressed together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The moment is soft and fragile, and Markus’ mismatched eyes are alight with joy. Connor hates to break the warm bubble they’ve found themselves in, but the sun is high in the sky now, and he has work.

“We can discuss it more when I get home.” He says, letting his hands wander for just a second more.

“Perfect. Be careful out there.” Markus replies, planting one last kiss on Connor’s mouth before pushing him away with a grin.

“I’ll try my best.”

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly wrote this because as an ND person I was getting really sick of Connor written as very childlike and innocent. The guy is a walking supercomputer. He can google anything in less than a second, he can process petabytes of data in an instant, he's a police officer, he's literally so god damned smart. But I guess NT people see repetitive behaviors and a missed social cue and go Babey!(TM)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, because I really enjoyed writing this.  
> Leave kudos and comments if you feel like it! They really make my day.
> 
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